


fate and other farces

by fruectose



Series: tumblr prompts [7]
Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Date Rape Drug/Roofies, alcohol mention, drug mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25848577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruectose/pseuds/fruectose
Summary: sorry I swear so much. percy and annabeth are strangers.written for tumblr prompt: “Hey,” A says, sliding over on the bar stools to get B’s attention. “Don’t drink that. I think your date’s trying to drug you.”  (I took some liberties lol)
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson
Series: tumblr prompts [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756708
Comments: 3
Kudos: 158





	fate and other farces

To the outside eye, Annabeth Chase and Percy Jackson do not share much in common, except, perhaps, that they are both adamant non-believers in _Fate_ , with a capital F. Even within their one similarity, they are different, because what Annabeth calls Luck (a fool’s game), Percy refers to as Destiny (a coward’s excuse).

They are strangers, who have _coincidentally_ (nothing to do with Fate, Luck or Destiny, mind you) exchanged exactly four words with each other in the past- _excuse me_ , Percy had ground out harshly while elbowing his way past Annabeth on a particularly crowded and chaotic Yankees-Mets game six years ago, to which Annabeth had scowled at him and said, _watch it_. It’s not relevant to the story, and neither of them will ever remember that one interaction, but it’s worth noting that they _had,_ in fact, breathed the same air- two non-believers, _years_ before their story really begins.

It began for Percy when the Mets lost to the Yankees early Friday night. _Again_.

It was his fault, and he knew it.

Why, you ask? Why was Percy Jackson, a bartender at The Salty Olive, singlehandedly responsible for that epic defeat? It’s because of the jersey. It wasn’t just any jersey, it was a _Tom_ _Seaver_ -signed jersey that, when worn during a game, all but guaranteed the Mets a win. And Percy couldn’t wear it because he was stuck at Rachel’s. For someone who held as much disdain for the concept of Destiny as Percy did, he was bizarrely superstitious. People can surprise you.

“Fuck.” Percy groaned, burying his face in his hands. Then again, more forcefully, “ _Fuck!_ ”

“It’s just a baseball game.” Rachel rolled her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot expectantly on the ground.

“You’re an idiot.” Percy said through his fingers, letting the shame consume him.

“Fine. Find someone else to spend the night with.” Rachel told him. Percy sighed.

“Obviously if I had anywhere else to go, that’s where I’d be.” He said. He peered up at her to find that she was not impressed. “I’m not asking to share your bed. I just need a place to crash tonight because Travis lost my apartment keys.” He gritted out.

He wasn’t lying. Travis had offered to babysit Grover and Juniper’s two-year-old son while the Underwoods took a date night off before the second one sprung out of Juniper, and Percy _had_ to pick up some extra shifts at the bar- the rent was due any day. Unfortunately, because baby Flint had a problem falling asleep in new environments and the Underwoods really needed their apartment to themselves (it’s best not to ask), they’d concluded that he was comfortable enough on Percy’s couch, and after a series of events that Percy didn’t care to recap, Travis Stoll had announced that he had, in fact, misplaced the keys, so here Percy was, sitting on his ex-girlfriend’s couch, head in his hands and frustration slowly building.

“If you’d just got a spare set like I told you to a thousand times-” Rachel started.

“We weren’t even that serious!” Percy cried. They were about to sink into their usual argument, he knew, but he was so mad with the world that he kind of wanted it, an excuse to be angry, to shout and storm off, even if it left him homeless for the night.

“What did you think would have happened if you got me a set? That you’d somehow lose your independence?”

“It wasn’t about the keys, it was you not respecting my boundaries!”

“Yeah, and look where that’s left you!”

You wouldn’t believe it if I said it, but usually, Percy and Rachel got on quite well. (It’s probably because they really weren’t all that serious before they broke up, but don’t tell Rachel I said that.) Anyway, the _I told you so_ in her tone was the final straw. Percy had no apartment, the Mets had lost, Rachel was being her best annoying self, and Percy did _not_ care for this anymore.

“You know what,” Percy decided. He sprung to his feet and whipped out his phone. “You’re not as easy to put up with either, you know. I’m leaving.”

“You’re _not_ leaving.” Rachel declared. “I’m not letting you freeze to death on some park bench. Just stay here and _don’t_ talk to me unless it’s to apologize for never giving me a copy of your keys.”

“We weren’t at that stage in our relationship!” Percy protested, but he was already storming out. Rachel made no attempt to stop him. In fact, she ushered him to the door.

“I’ll see you when you come crawling back here for a bed.” She said before slamming the door on his face.

Percy looked down at his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Rachel’s girlfriend’s number. She’d already answered by the time he held it up to his ear.

“Come on, Jackson, this better be good we’re swamped and Grover had to run home because Juniper’s in labor, and I’m tired-”

_Aha_. Percy was over the moon that his best friend was about to welcome his second child into the world and all, but nothing made him happier than hearing Reyna say they were swamped. Just what he needed.

“Just called to ask if you need an extra pair of hands.” He said casually, already making his way into work. Reyna paused for a second. There was loud chatter behind her, and Percy grinned to himself. He wasn’t coming back to Rachel’s for _a while_. He won.

“You specifically told me you never wanted to work a Friday night again.” Reyna said slowly.

“I know. That was before your stupid girlfriend was stupid.” Percy told her. Reyna chuckled.

“It’s about the spare keys, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t _ready_.”

“I don’t care. Your loss is my gain, right? Okay, how fast can you get here?”

“Ten minutes.”

*

Annabeth was having a very different kind of Friday night- in that it was actually going really, _really_ well.

She’d just signed off on the last of the Robertson project, which was kind of a gigantic deal for someone only two years out of university. Finishing the project had relieved a whole amount of stress for both her, and her best friend and colleague, Silena- something her boyfriend, Beckendorf had been constantly reminded of by Annabeth, of course. They’d both decided on the date, time and setting together- nothing quite as romantic as starting something new just as an old project came to an end, right?

Annabeth sat next to Silena at a table with their closest friends- Clarisse, Chris and Beckendorf, who caught her eye and winked. There was an air of anticipation buzzing around them- Annabeth had never kept a secret in her entire life before, so _obviously_ Clarisse and Chris were in on it.

She sipped on her wine as Beckendorf cleared his throat. She watched him take his girlfriend’s hand in his, watched the way his thumb rubbed gently over her knuckles as he started to speak the sweetest words Annabeth had ever heard. She wished she could record this moment, document forever the exact second Silena’s face went from confusion to realization, or the softness of her smile or the way Beckendorf’s voice shook ever so slightly with emotion. Annabeth could barely see through her tears. She heard the word _yes_ , only a little above a whisper, as if there was a shadow of doubt.

It was a gentle, small, _passing_ moment in time- monumental for Silena and Beckendorf and magical for Annabeth, Clarisse and Chris, and she was glad none of them had their phones out. The entire proposal was so quiet, none of the other patrons of the restaurant even noticed- an intimate moment between a couple in love and their closest friends.

If Annabeth thought there was a higher power (which she did _not_ ), she might have felt blessed to be included in such a beautiful moment.

Silena asked her and Clarisse to be her co-bridesmaids almost immediately after she got over her shock, and of course they said yes, because what kind of a stupid question was that? And they hugged and kissed and before she knew it, it was time to leave.

Annabeth climbed into her car, still thinking about a love pure and illuminating like Silena and Beckendorf’s. She wasn’t sure she was ever going to find someone to love like that, but for now, she smiled to herself as she belted herself in, she had her own kicking-ass-at-work present she’d gifted herself to love.

It wasn’t as exciting as a shiny new ring and the promise of a companion for life, but Annabeth _had_ treated herself, even if her bank account couldn’t quite afford splurging of any sort. She looked fondly down at the three extortionate yet adorable little succulents in their matching yellow plant pots that sat on her passenger seat. She was still thinking about her plants when she backed out of the parking lot, and very little might have been able to pull her out of her reverie-

Except, of course, the _THUD_! and then the cries of the man she’d knocked over _with her car_ while _daydreaming_ about her _plants_.

“Fuck!” She heard.

“Holy shit.” She muttered, unbuckling herself and rushing over to him. “Fuck. Oh- fuck, you’re, uh… oh… oh _fuck_.” She managed, kneeling down beside him as he curled up into himself and groaned, clutching his leg. “I’m so sorry, Sir… oh, shit, shit, shit, I’m so-”

“I’m going to sue you for all you’re worth, lady.” The guy moaned. He wore an expensive looking suit and very fancy shoes, so she didn’t really doubt it at all. Annabeth’s first instinct was to warn him she wasn’t really worth half what he’d pay a lawyer, but she shut her mouth. It was probably best not to rile up a man she’d just run over (any more than her _running him over_ might have riled him up, anyway).

“I’m so, so sorry.” She said again, reaching out to him and not knowing what the appropriate first aid was.

“You hit me with your car!” He cried. He peeked through his elbow at her and then his pain seemed to instantly subside. He raised his blonde eyebrows and sat up. “Oh.”

“Are you okay?” Annabeth asked.

“Uh… yeah.” He said, frowning slightly. Now that she could get a proper look at his face, she realized he was actually quite handsome. His eyes were a warm brown, his jaw firm and his grin wicked. “I’m Jake.” He said, holding out his hand. Annabeth took it, still unsure of how the legal process would go.

“Annabeth.” She offered.

“Here’s the deal, Annabeth.” Jake said. His confidence for a man who was crying bloody murder two seconds ago for seemingly no reason was unsettling. “I think you’re beautiful. You go on one date with me, I won’t sue you. Sound good?”

No, Annabeth thought. Sound _bad_. Sound like maybe you should go fuck yourself. What kind of a weirdo _pretended_ to be injured just so he could _sue_ an unassuming woman? But then again, how do you look a man you nearly killed in the eye, even if he was completely unharmed, and tell him you’d rather he sue you for all the thirty-three dollars in your bank account than go on one date with him? She swallowed thickly.

“I’m traveling this weekend-”

“One drink. There’s a bar just down that way.”

 _Bad idea_. A voice in her head warned. _Thirty-three_ dollars, another voice reminded her.

“Fine. One drink.”

*

Nothing screamed instant regret like choosing to work in a bar late on a Friday night. Percy looked helplessly over at Thalia as a group of underage guys fell over each other to show them their painfully obvious fake IDs.

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout this guys, but… I’m keeping these.” Percy told them with a big sigh, waving their cards in their faces. “Go home. Play a video game or something.”

He couldn’t really bring himself to feel sorry for them as they trudged out, just as a new couple stepped in. Because Destiny was for cowards, Percy would never be able to tell you _exactly_ what it was about the woman that made him drawn to her- she followed behind the blonde dude almost timidly, but her shoulders were drawn back and relaxed enough that she didn’t seem nervous. He’d chalk it down to attraction, because who wouldn’t be attracted to her- she was tall and athletic and had a pretty face. One he’d briefly seen many a moon ago, but he wasn’t quite paying attention then, was he?

Now, as the night chugged on and the customers put away more and more bottles, the crowd at the bar was thinning, with all the drunks now hanging closer to their tables and conversations getting progressively louder and more nonsensical. Percy watched the couple, sitting uncomfortably enough that it absolutely had to be a first date.

The guy eventually came up to the bar.

“Hey, man.”

“What can I do you for?”

“Hm… you got any Macallen, older than twenty-five years?” He asked. He squinted at their collection and scratched his jaw, showing off a shiny, fancy watch in the process _. A Macallen twenty-five_ , Percy nearly rolled his eyes. He was tempted to pour out a Jim Beam and see if he could tell the difference.

“No, sir. We’ve got a Macallen eight and a Macallen ten. If you want scotch we have Glenfiddich and…” Percy thought for a moment. “Famous Grouse. Scotland’s finest blend.”

The Date considered his options. “Give me a Famous Grouse.” He decided. Cheap, Percy thought with some level of satisfaction. “Oh, and a Chardonnay.”

“Sure. I’ll bring it to you at your table.” Percy offered. The Date hesitated.

“No, I’ll just wait at the bar.” He said, discretely glancing over his shoulder at his date, who was now bent over her phone and texting what Percy has no doubt is an SOS message to a friend.

“Uh… okay?”

Percy hesitated. Usually the bar policy was to pour drinks for women in front of them, or at least hand them over directly. He looked over at Thalia for help, but she was wiping down the bar at the other corner, paying him no attention at all. He started to pour out the wine carefully.

He took a moment to get a good look at the guy, and he hated that he wasn’t as ugly as Percy had hoped. He wore a nice pressed suit that had some curious stains on them. His date wore a floral dress. It looked like they were both dressed for completely different events, neither of which should have been held in a bar as dingy as Salty Olive. The Date noticed him staring and cracked a grin.

“Hot, eh?” He asked. Percy chose to ignore it. He gestured to the marks on his suit. “She almost ran me over. Incredible, isn’t it? Like _Fate_.”

Percy winced sympathetically and then respectfully did _not_ punch him in the jaw for the stupid Fate comment. “That’s rough. Hope you’re okay, man.”

“Sure. Soiled an Italian suit… but got a _smoking_ date out of it.” He wriggled his brows and leaned forward like he and Percy are sharing some inside joke. “I’m feeling pretty lucky tonight, if you know what I mean.”

“I wish I didn’t.” Percy said kindly. If he felt shame, he did a damn good job ignoring it.

“Leave these here.” He said. “I gotta hit the can.”

“Round that way.”

*

Yeah… the part of Annabeth’s brain that didn’t want to go the stupid date was absolutely _right_. So far, she’d heard about Jake’s dad’s boat and his inheritance and how he’d made a ton of money more since getting run over by a Jaguar. If he’d taken a second to see that Annabeth drove a beaten-up second-hand Chevrolet, she could have been home free, snuggling in her sheets and smiling at her beautiful new plants.

Instead, she was stuck making painful conversation with a man she could not stand. She typed out messages to both Silena and Clarisse as soon as he left to get them drinks and then deleted them. Silena shouldn’t be bothered with something so trivial on such a big day and Clarisse and Chris had both seemed dead on their feet and she couldn’t put them through having to come get her.

She sighed and played with her phone. What was taking Jake so long? The sooner he got the drinks, the quicker Annabeth could down hers and _leave_.

“Don’t panic, but I think your date’s trying to drug you.” He slid into the booth across from her with ease. “I’d be careful with that Chardonnay.”

Annabeth had noticed the bartender when she walked in- she might have even had a brief second of eye contact with him. He was even more stunning up close. His eyes were a bright green and sparkled with life. He wasn’t scrawny, like she’d originally thought, no- he was lean. His arms, which now rested on her table, were muscular enough that a jab of his elbow might have hurt her (as it had six years ago). Annabeth was almost ashamed that her brain automatically wondered what they’d feel like around her. _Safe_ , she imagined. Speaking of safe men-

“I think I know better than to walk into a bar with a guy I think’s going to _roofie_ me.” Annabeth told him, hoping it wasn’t completely obvious she’d been mentally drooling over the fine man in front of him. As soon as the words left her mouth, she bit her tongue. _Good going, Annabeth_ , she thought drily. _That was smooth. Scare this handsome man off why don’t you_? The guy didn’t seem pressed. He raised his brows and nodded towards the bar.

“We’ll see. Looks like Prince Charming’s finally come back out to play.” He said. Annabeth watched as Jake looked around suspiciously before extracting something carefully out of his pocket.

He swirled what was meant to be Annabeth’s wine once and she felt her heart sink. Was he actually going to drug her? Did this stunning bartender actually rescue her, like a damsel in distress, from the clutches of an evil rich man who might otherwise _sue_ her? Before she could come to terms with the fact that the night could have taken an incredibly dark turn, Jake dropped something into the wine, causing it to bubble lightly before dying out. Her drink stood on the bar looking innocent. Inviting, even. Her stomach churned uncomfortably. 

“Hey!” The bartender called, standing up and walking over to Jake. For one terrifying moment, Annabeth thought he might actually say something. She just needed a second to think about how she wanted to handle the situation. Jake started, his hand still hovering over Annabeth’s drink.

The bartender shook his head and laughed. “Sorry, man. Just realized I poured out a Riesling, not a Chardonnay. Let me just fix that for you real quick.”

  
If Jake realized that he was not only on the wrong side of the bar, but also at their table, he didn’t seem to care. He looked irritated and scowled at Percy. Guess that was one Rohypnol down the drain.

“Dude, what the fuck?” He asked. Annabeth decided she was bored of watching from the sidelines and made her way to the bar.

“What’s taking so long?” She asked with wide eyes. Jake bared his teeth and the bartender.

“This _idiot_ mixed up your wine.” He grunted. “Come on, Annabeth. Let me get you back to our table.”

“It’s okay.” Annabeth said casually, like he didn’t make her blood boil. “My legs can do with a stretch.”

Jake launched into some long explanation as to why women should be treated well, and didn’t deserve to have to walk up to the bars when their drinks could just as easily be brought to them- and that’s when Annabeth saw him do it-

The bartender, who’d kept his head down as he poured a new drink, spilled her contaminated wine, drugs and all, right into Jake’s whiskey. It was clear enough that it mixed easily in with it and she very much doubted Jake was paying any attention to his own drink to realize the volume had nearly doubled. The bartender looked back up at Annabeth and sent her a wink that sent her heart into overdrive.

It wasn’t fair for someone to look as good as he did. It just didn’t abide by the laws of nature.

She pressed her lips together, because it was kind of a genius move. He handed her her drink and she clinked her glass with Jake’s before taking a sip. Jake frowned at his glass.

“What is that?” He demanded. The barman narrowed his eyes.

“Oh. Scotland’s own, Famous Grouse, of course.” He said. “It’s impossible to drink it neat. The most expensive whiskey we have. Surely you’re used to its… distinct taste?”

Jake coughed and smoothened his features. “Of course I have.” He snapped. He stomped back to their table, no doubt expecting Annabeth to follow, but she hung back. She felt this inexplicable urge to defend her decisions for the night to this man who’d literally saved her life. On the same day that she almost killed a guy. If Luck existed and Annabeth was a fool, she’d say she was a bit down on hers.

“I wasn’t actually meant to be here tonight.” She said. Weird introduction, she’ll admit, but Annabeth was nervous. This guy was, like, _beautiful_. The way he grinned at her when he saw her… she knew the look in his eyes, no doubt mirroring what she probably had in hers when she saw him. _He_ was attracted to _her_. That made everything worse. Now she had too much to lose by saying something stupid. She swallowed hard.

“Believe it or not, neither was I.” He said, nodding his chin at her. “But you go first.”

“If I had to blame anyone, it’s Mr. Robinson.” Annabeth decided. That’s where her story really began after all, wasn’t it?

“Who’s Mr. Robinson?”

“Some guy who’s about to move into a lavish new home in Poughkeepsie.” Annabeth explained. “If he hadn’t asked for this ridiculously specific home, I wouldn’t be celebrating the end of that project so much tonight. Who are you blaming for you being here?”

The bartender considered it.

“Flint Underwood.” He said.

“Who’s that?”

“A two-year-old.”

“Like… maturity-wise?” Annabeth asked. It was a little hard to believe a grown man could be brought to a bar because of an actual baby. The barman tilted his head and gave her a crooked smile.

“Yeah. Maturity-wise. But it’s excusable, because also… age-wise.” He admitted and Annabeth barked out a laugh. “If he learned to sleep in just about any bed, he wouldn’t need my couch.” He started, gesturing for Annabeth to continue.

“End of the Robinson project meant I got to buy myself a little gift.” Annabeth said. “And my best friend got engaged.”

“My friend had to babysit the baby in my apartment.” Percy offered. “And now I don’t have a house to go back to.”

“I got distracted by love and plants.” Annabeth said with finality. No more explanations required. She got distracted, something happened, and now here she is.

“I got angry at an ex-girlfriend for not caring about the Yankees-Mets game.” He mimicked her tone, and she could piece together the picture. No friends, no apartment- bar. A logical progression of events.

“Oh yeah! Super bummed I missed the game!” Annabeth cried. The bartender rolled his eyes and gestured, like, _you get it_!

“Exactly! It was horrible, though, you didn’t miss much. We got _totally_ annihilated-”

“What? No we didn’t. We won! I checked Twitter and everything!” Annabeth frowned.

The bartender looked as confused as she felt, and then she saw the same realization she’d seen on Silena’s face dawn on the barman’s (and, she assumed, her own, as the pieces came together) except instead of elated, he was a mixture of offended and betrayed, much like she felt.

*

Percy could _not_ believe he’d met a pretty, funny girl who cared as much about baseball as he did, all to find-

“You’re a _Mets_ fan!?” She cried at the same time he smacked his hands on the edge of the table.

“You like the _Yankees_!?” He barked out a humorless laugh and looked up at the ceiling. Seemed typical for him, judging by the day he was having. “Fucking fantastic.”

“Don’t look disappointed in _me_!” Annabeth cried. “The Mets haven’t had a decent season in the last twenty years. I’m not the idiot between the two of us!”

Percy wanted to kiss her. He scratched the back of his neck. “You’re a disgusting pile of garbage.” He told her instead. _Nice save_.

“And you’re…” She thought about it for a second but then there’s a soft _flump_! From her table and they look over to see her date, slumped over the table and unmoving as the table itself.

“That worked faster than I expected.” Percy said, letting out a low whistle.

“That was kind of clever.” She said. “Especially for a _Mets_ fan.”

“You kind of missed your trash-talking window.” He made a face at her and she stuck her tongue out at him. Silence hung between them, both waiting to see if the other would make a move.

“Annabeth is a pretty name.” Percy said finally, because he didn’t want to cave but he also didn’t want to stop talking to her.

“Yeah?” She asked with a small smile. “And when the police come to question me about the events of the night an innocent man was poisoned, who do I say was manning the bar?”

“Thalia Grace.” He told her. Annabeth raised a brow and he laughed. “Percy. But don’t rat me out. You owe me.”

“I’ll pay you in any way _except_ indulging you on a date.” Annabeth told him. Her smile was impossible to misread. Percy totally won that stand-off.

“Oh, no. The date isn’t part of this deal.” He told her.

“But it’s a part of _some_ deal?”

“Depends.” Percy said. Annabeth leaned her elbows over the bar.

“On what?”

“If I ask you on a date,” He started slowly. “You’re not going to drug me and leave me to die in a bar and then run off with the bartender, are you?”

  
Annabeth was saved from answering when one of the girls at a table called for an extra round. Percy grabbed eight bottles of IPA like their previous round. He slid around the bar and tried to walk around Annabeth, but they got stuck in an awkward you-move-left-I-move-right situation. Finally, Percy reached out and held her by the shoulders, circling around her carefully.

“Excuse me.” He breathed out a small laugh as he did. He took one step and accidentally smacked his elbow against hers, causing him momentarily loosen his grip on the beers. The bottles in his hand rattled dangerously before he readjusted his hold on them.

“Watch it.” Annabeth told him gently as he jogged over to the table so he could get back to her as quickly as possible.

They talked that night, even after Travis came sheepishly in with Percy’s keys, even when Annabeth was no longer tied to the bar with the threat of losing her small savings looming over her. They talked the next night, and the next, and the one after that.

Maybe they’re right. Maybe it wasn’t Fate, with a capital F that brought them both to the bar that night. Maybe Destiny and Luck are for idiots and piles of garbage. All I know is this- Percy and Annabeth started that Friday as strangers and ended it with a connection they knew ran deep.

But before you agree with them, ask yourself- what possible logical explanation could there be for a Mets fan and a Yankees fan to not only find each other and then like each other, but also start a long, loving relationship wherein they end up _marrying_ each other? Seems a lot like Fate to me.


End file.
